Consumed (3 page)

“Okay. Hear anything from Jim yet on our travel arrangements?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I’m sure he should be getting everything over to us shortly.”

“All right, I’m going to get back to looking at this for a few minutes until the wife gets home. I’ll shoot you a message if something pops out at me, which I doubt. Enjoy your movie, and I’ll catch you in the morning.”

“Sounds good,” Beth said.

I hung up and went back to examining photos of dismembered bodies.

Richard stood outside the driver’s door of his old light-blue Datsun pickup truck. He’d been waiting the better part of a half hour, but he knew he was early when he arrived. He was parked next to the vacuums of a rundown car wash in Nashville. That area of town was known for its street-walking prostitutes, and Richard knew just what time they started coming out.

“No one ever looks for missing whores,”
his father always used to say.

The truck was fitted with a windowless cap, the back glass replaced with a piece of metal he could padlock to the tailgate. Richard’s mother was in the back—he didn’t like leaving her home alone.

“There’s two down the street,” Richard heard his mother say.

“Shut up. They’ll hear you.”

“No, they won’t.”

Richard banged his fist against the side of the truck.

Richard looked up and down the sidewalk and spotted two women, clearly prostitutes, stumbling toward him from down the block. He waited patiently and adjusted the large hunting knife on his belt to the side and under his shirt—out of view for the most part. The pair of women noticed him standing there as they came up the sidewalk. They walked toward him and stopped before him.

“Looking for a date, hon?” the one on the right asked. She reached out and twisted his long, greasy black-and-gray hair between her fingers. “I like big guys.” She smiled at him.

“I might be looking,” he said. Richard looked her up and down. The woman was a platinum blond though it could have been a wig. She wore a leopard-print skirt and fishnet stockings. Her top was pink and loose, exposing her thin right shoulder.

“We can give you a deal if you want both of us,” the other said.

Richard’s eyes went to her. That woman was shorter than her friend, with jet black hair. Her eyebrows were thick and dark—the right one had a small gap at the corner that Richard assumed to be a scar, probably from being punched by a John. She wore some kind of faux leather skirt, tall black boots, and a dirty white top.

Richard said nothing.

“Well, what’s it going to be, honey? Are you looking for a date or not?” The one with the leopard skirt asked.

Richard looked down at the women. The single light overhead, above the vacuums, lit the two women’s faces. Both women’s eyes were glazed over, and he noticed they both had track marks on their arms.

Richard didn’t respond to the woman’s question.

“We ain’t got all night. You want us or what?” the platinum blond asked.

“Don’t suppose you have any bigger friends? You two are a little thin for my tastes.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” the blond said.

Richard smirked, thinking that the hooker had a point.

“Yeah. How much for the both of you?” Richard asked.

The two women looked at each other. “Two hundred for both of us, and we’ll do whatever you want,” the dark-haired one said.

“What are your names?” he asked.

“I’m Candy,” the blond said. “This is Peaches.” She pointed at the dark-haired woman.

“Well, Candy, Peaches, get in the truck,” Richard said.

“Show us the money first,” the dark-haired one, Peaches, said.

Richard reached into his pocket and removed his wallet.

“Don’t you give those whores any money,” he heard his mother say from the back of the truck.

Richard didn’t respond. He looked at the two women—they were still waiting to see the cash. Richard pulled two hundreds from his wallet and held them up. Candy, in the leopard skirt, reached for the money, but Richard pulled it away.

“You get paid after. I have a place right up the street. Hop in,” he said.

Richard opened the driver’s-side door and got behind the wheel. The two women rounded the front, went to the passenger door, and got in. Richard pulled from the lot and made a left.

“Do you have any coke?” Peaches, sitting closer to him, asked.

“No,” Richard said. He didn’t look at her and continued driving.

A few minutes passed without any words being said.

Richard reached over and squeezed the thigh of Peaches, then he reached over farther and did the same to Candy. The two women looked at each other in question.

“Where is your place again?” Candy asked.

“Just up here a ways.” Richard scratched at his long beard.

Peaches, sitting directly next to him, ran her hand up his leg. “Just pull down one of these side streets. We can do it there.”

“No,” Richard said. “What the hell kind of name is Peaches? Do you think that name is cute or something?”

“It’s just a name,” she said. “Why? You don’t like it?”

“I never understood why whores and strippers always wanted to give themselves stupid names. You know, if you’re a whore and your name is Nancy, why not just be Nancy the Whore? How is Peaches the Whore any better of a name?”

The woman went quiet. Richard noticed her looking at her friend from the corner of his eye. He stared back out of the windshield and saw the sign for the freeway approaching. He put on his turn signal to get in the lane for the on ramp.

“I thought you said your place was just up the street?” Peaches asked.

“A few exits up,” Richard said.

“We didn’t know we’d be going somewhere far. We don’t really do that. You know, I know a place that’s close that we can go to. Don’t you want to get this party started?” Peaches continued farther up his leg with her hand.

Richard turned his head and looked her in the face. “I’m paying you. You’ll go where I say. It’s probably in your best interest to just shut up.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Candy said.

“Candy,” Richard said, “shut your mouth.”

“Just pull over and let us out,” Peaches said.

“No.” Richard slowed for the right hand turn onto the freeway ramp.

“No? What do you mean no?” Candy asked. “Pull over and let us out.”

Richard turned his head and looked at her. “Did I stutter? I’m not pulling over.”

“Let us out, you asshole,” Peaches said and swatted her hand into his chest.

The blond, Candy, reached into her purse for something.

He pulled to the side of the road, halfway up the on-ramp. Richard checked his mirrors—no other cars in sight. Candy reached for the door handle, and Richard reached for the hunting knife on his hip. She pulled the handle—the door didn’t open.

“It won’t open. Open the door! Let us out, you freak!” Candy said.

Richard brought the hunting knife up and plunged it into Peaches’s chest. He stared at the blond, Candy, as he did it. He pulled the knife out and stuck it in again. Peaches’s neck jerked, and her eyes bulged in shock. Her hands trembled as she reached for her chest. Candy screamed and pawed at the passenger door. Richard reached over Peaches and began stabbing Candy. The first stab caught her in the side—deep enough where Richard figured it had hit something vital. The second stab slammed through her chest and out her back—the knife’s blade passed clean through the woman and stuck into the foam of the truck’s vinyl bench seat. Richard continued stabbing until Candy stopped moving.

Richard yanked the knife from her chest and pulled it across Candy’s throat. Her neck opened, spilling blood down her chest. Then he rested the knife on his thigh, put the truck in drive, and continued up the freeway ramp. Beside him, Peaches was still moving. Richard flipped on his directional and merged onto the freeway. He picked up the knife from his leg and ran it across her throat as he drove. The lights overhead on the freeway lit the cab of his truck. The front of Peaches’s white shirt went wet and red.

He looked over at her and saw Peaches roll her eyes at him. “Well, that was real smart, wasn’t it?” he heard Peaches ask. “Now you have two dead hookers in the cab of your truck. What happens if you get pulled over, stupid?”

Richard leaned toward the steering wheel a bit, reached back, and slammed the blade of the knife square through her forehead. She went quiet.

Richard looked past Peaches at Candy, and he saw her smirk. “That will shut her up,” he heard Candy say.

Beth and I landed at the Nashville airport a couple minutes after noon. An agent named Clifford from the Clarksville resident agency was expecting us around two o’clock. I didn’t know if Clifford was a first or last name—Beth had been in contact with him. We made our way through the concourse.

“Ever been to Nashville?” Beth asked. She’d ditched the hair bun and glasses—her dark hair now hung a bit past her shoulders, as usual. She wore a gray skirt, a matching blazer, and a light-blue blouse.

“Um, I think I may have driven through once or twice. You?” I asked.

Beth shook her head. “Nope. First time.”

We found the baggage claim a few minutes later. Beth and I grabbed our bags, picked up our rental cars, and made for our hotel—a fifteen-minute drive east from the airport into downtown. My navigation on my phone chirped and told me our destination was the high-rise to my left on the next street. We turned left and passed under the sky bridge over the street that connected the hotel to the parking structure. Beth made a left at the corner and immediately pulled into the parking structure. I followed her in. We went two levels up and found spots, and I stepped out.

“Is this where we park for the hotel?” I asked.

“Pretty sure. The sign at the entrance said ten bucks a day,” she said.

I shrugged.

I got my carry-on and computer bag from the back of the car and met Beth at her trunk.

Beth’s head swiveled around. She draped the strap attached to her bag over her shoulder. “We’re headed over there,” she said, jerking her chin toward the Renaissance entrance sign over a pair of red doors at the edge of the parking structure.

Beth and I headed through the doors and across the bridge over the street. I glanced off to my left as we walked the glass-walled bridge. I spotted the one building that I recognized from the Nashville skyline—I didn’t know its name, but it looked like a giant stun gun with an antenna jutting up from both corners of the pointed top.

We headed into the hotel, checked in, and took the elevators up to the sixteenth floor.

I glanced at my watch as I slipped the key card in my door. “How far is it to the Clarksville office?”

“It’s going to be a good hour. I figure we should be leaving here within a half hour or so,” Beth said.

I nodded. “Shoot over when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay.” She entered her room, one over from mine.

I stepped inside and let the door close at my back. Then I walked past the bathroom immediately to my right and took in the room. A single king-sized bed sat to my left. The entire left wall of the room was lime-green wallpaper in some modern-looking pattern. To my right was a nice cabinet for clothing and a flat-screen television bolted to the wall. Beyond the cabinet, a white shelf serving as a desk extended out from the wall—a lime-green office chair was pushed in underneath. I walked past the bed and the lounge chair next to the room’s windows, pulled open the curtains, and stared out.

“Hmm, okay-looking view,” I said.

The room looked out to the south and a bit to the east. Past the few downtown buildings and what I assumed to be some kind of sports arena was nothing but horizon. Far back in the distance, I could see tiny peaks of mountains.

I tossed my laptop bag onto the desk area and my carry-on onto the bed. I hung my black suit jacket on the back of the lime chair and began unpacking. Once everything was put away and my suits for the week hung, I walked to the bathroom, stared into the mirror, and splashed a bit of water across my face. I looked at one side of my head and then the other. My black hair was getting grayer by the day. I know Karen didn’t mind the silver mixed in, seeing as she’d had me dye a little gray into it a few months back, but it was starting to make me feel old. I leaned in closer and looked around my eyes—I spotted more crow’s-feet than normal. Maybe it was the mirror. I shook my head, wiped the water from my face, and snugged up my blue-patterned tie, which Karen had recently purchased me. I walked back out into the room, took a seat at the chair by the windows, and dialed Karen. She answered right away.

“Hey, you’re there?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just got to the hotel a minute ago. We’re going to leave here in a few minutes and head out to the Clarksville office. I guess it’s like an hour away.”

“How’s Tennessee?”

“Um, so far so good, I guess. Don’t know yet—been here all of an hour. How’s work?”

“Same as always. I don’t think we should have a kid, and I’m just sitting around at my desk.”

I furrowed my brow. “What was that middle part there that you just breezed past?”

“Yeah, babe. I’ve been thinking about it. If it hasn’t happened, maybe it’s a sign. We missed our window, I think.”

I didn’t really know what to say, so I remained quiet.

“Input?” she asked.

I needed to come up with something, apparently. “Um, I know what you’re saying. I was just looking at myself in the mirror. I’m getting old and gray, maybe too old and gray to be starting the parenting thing now.” I wasn’t sure if that was the answer she was looking for, yet with Karen only being two years younger than me, I regretted the words right after they came out of my mouth. I had a hunch that she would take it as me calling her old.

“You’re forty-three. That’s not too old for a man,” she said. “I mean, you could have a bunch of kids with somebody ten years younger than me.”

I cleared my throat. “The kid thing was your idea, remember? I never said we had to have kids. And all I want is you, kids or not.” I figured a dose of reality combined with telling her she was all I wanted might do the trick.